


Many Happy Returns?

by Lopaka_Tanu



Category: The 4400, due South
Genre: F/M, Language, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lopaka_Tanu/pseuds/Lopaka_Tanu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their abductions, Ray and Fraser meet under different circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many Happy Returns?

**Author's Note:**

> This is as close to canon as I could get while meshing them with the 4400. Leaves DS canon shortly after Fraser rescued and turned in Victoria the first time.

1987 - Chicago.

"Keep your eye on the target, moron!" Smacking the rookie upside the head, Sargent Morrison knew he wouldn't even so much as look back for fear of retaliation. If these kids were going to become men and walk the streets, they had better be able to put with a little abuse. "Now, fire!"

Taking aim, Stanley tried to focus on the target, but couldn't quite seem to make out the blurry lines. So, he closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. If he was going to miss, might as well miss big.

"Congratulations, you just killed the hostage." Smacking Stanley upside the head again, Morrison growled in frustration. "What's the matter, are you fucking blind, Kowalski?"

"What if I am?" Dropping the gun to his side, Stanley spun to face the Sargent. His fingers twitched with the need to plant his fist in the older man's fat face.

Instead of pissing him off, this only seemed to amuse the man. He threw a thumb over his shoulder. "Go get your fucking glasses before you shoot someone real."

"I don't have glasses." Stanley puffed up his chest. "Don't need'em."

"Bullshit." He slammed a meaty hand in to the rookie's chest, knocking the wind out of him. "Unless you can see the target, you're not cleared to handle a fire arm. They're not gonna let the dog point it for you."

For several seconds, Stanley continued to stare at the man in question.

"What are you doing standing round twiddling your thumbs up your ass for?" Morrison nearly came unhinged, causing the rookie to jump as he screamed at him. "Go get your pretty peepers checked out and I mean now!"

Saluting the older man, Stanley smacked himself in the head with the gun's barrel. "Damn it!" Lowering the gun to his side, he held his now bruised forehead.

Morrison barked with laughter as he watched the rookie walk away.

It was the last anyone saw of Stanley Kowalski.

~~~~~~~~~

1987 - Inuvik

"Be that as it may, Benton, we are simply worried about you." Setting the bowl of caribou stew down, Norah watched her grandson lower his eyes. Hand free of the bowl, she ran it over his recently shorn scalp. "Why must you cut your hair so short? Would it not be better, warmer, if it were a bit longer?"

"Leave the boy alone, Nonny." From his place at the fire, book in hand, Gerald puffed on his pipe. "If he wishes to attain any respect, he must look the part. A strong profile is best presented in any situation. A man must always do his best to keep it so."

Sighing, Norah shook her head. "Benton is hardly a man yet." She would not add that she felt he himself barely qualified at times. Turning to her grandson, she pinched his cheek. "So grown up, yet still a boy."

His cheeks coloring, Benton kept his eyes down. "Yes, well, I am afraid my Sargent shares your opinion in that regard." He was far from a boy, but there was no telling his grandmother that. "As for Mary RunningDeer, I must decline your invitation. In fact, there is a very similar reason as to why I have come home."

"Oh?" This drew Gerald's nose from his book. "Have you finally met yourself a young lady?"

"So close to the city, is that even possible?" Facing to her husband, Norah remained standing behind Benton. Her hands settled upon his shoulders. "With the way those girls are these days, it is a wonder they can have children. So skinny, no hips at all. Nothing to keep them and a child through the long winters."

Gerald shook his head. "Your grandmother is correct. It would be better to pick a local woman. Good stock, strong bones!" He raised his pipe as if to salute the many women. As he did, his eyes traced Norah's ample curves. "You would be wise to let Nonny choose for you."

Face near beet red, Benton shot up from his seat. His eyes skipped across the room, landing upon nothing and everything. "May I be excused, I do believe I must relieve myself." Licking his lips, he rubbed the back of his thumb over his eyebrow.

Chuckling, Gerald puffed on his pipe. "You know where the water closet is." As their grandson shot across the cabin, he couldn't hid the grin any further.

The door slammed shut behind Benton.

Norah threw a cloth napkin at her husband. "You're terrible for teasing him."

That was the last time anyone ever saw Benton Fraser.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2004 - Highland Beach

Shivering, Ray hunkered down in his uniform shirt. The thin material provided almost no protection in the freezing fog. Soon, his teeth were chattering and his body wracked with intense shivers. For a half a second, he believed he was standing in front of the lake in the dead of winter.

The lack of major waves and that funky smell from the water front threw that idea out the window. What he could see of the lake nearby through the fog was completely unfamiliar. Something else was off. It took his cold addled mind a few seconds to realize.

The people.

So many of them. All of them were in clothes. It was the clothes, the hair styles. He'd seen some of these styles in his mom's pictures.

An older lady across from him wore a coat he had seen in a store window just last week. That one had been a reproduction, Stell wanted it. Ray had a feeling this woman's was real. He couldn't say why.

He had a feeling a lotta these people weren't supposed to be here, just like him. His thoughts quickly went back to the most recent event he could recall before he was suddenly on the beech. Something about a shooting. It was too blurry and his thoughts were becoming harder to focus.

Distantly, he thought it must be hypothermia. It was acting a little fast, but then again, he didn't have much body fat to keep himself warm. Stella was always warning him, but he didn't listen. Who knew she would be right?

Eyes closed, Ray had his shoulders up around his ears. Suddenly warmth enveloped him. It was almost painful in its suddenness and welcome despite this. Dragging the warmth closer about him, Ray noticed that he wasn't the only person in the heat.

He didn't care.

Strong arms were wrapped around him, pulling him back against the stranger's chest. Ray spun to face the broad chest, burying his face in the warmth of the stranger's neck. The coat, real fur by the feel of it, was big enough to hold his skinny Polack ass and the stranger. Til his dying day, Ray would be forever grateful to the stranger for that.

Within moments, his shaking had been reduced to a tingle. Tiny spasms continued to make his body twitch, but he found himself relaxing in the warm embrace. The key word being warm.

He must have moaned, because the stranger suddenly gasped. Funny, he could hear, and he was certain he hadn't made a noise. Ray shifted, which caused the stranger to gasp again.

Then it hit him like a tonne of bricks. Swallowing, he decided to play it off real cool. There was nothing wrong with this. It was a normal reaction to the sudden return of blood flow. He wasn't reacting to the bulging mass of muscles under his arms, against his chest, trapping his thighs. Not at all.

They were just two normal guys sharing a warm snuggle on a cold beach.

There was nothing gay about that!

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Ray tried to step back from the stranger. Not far enough to escape the coat, but just enough to give his happy pants some breathing room. The hands on his body must have been made of steel because there was no budging them.

Despite the embarrassment he knew he must be causing his good Samaritan, Ray decided to ignore Stanley. If the man could over look the fact he was being poked by more than just Ray's scrawny ribs, then so could Ray. He was warm, his body was happy, he could live with the potential fall out of this afterwards.

Besides, there was nothing saying they ever had to see each other later on. The fact his dick wasn't going soft, despite the fact it had been a few minutes would never be discussed again. It wasn't going to be discussed in the first place. No, he was going to say good bye.

Better yet, he wasn't going to say anything at all. Yeah, that was perfect. Fantastic. Greatness even!

Laying his head upon the stranger's shoulder, Ray felt a yawn over take him. Something about the smell of leather and whatever material the coat was made out of was extremely comforting. Before he knew it, his body was sagging against the stranger.

He wanted to keep his eyes open, he wanted to deal with whatever was going on. Ray wanted to do something, but he couldn't stay awake. That was okay, the stranger was holding him. He felt the man kneel to take on all his weight.

Then he was being lifted up.

The next thing Ray knew, his head was against that broad chest. He could hear the comforting sticatto rhythm of his heartbeat. It was kinda nice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

People were talking. He could hear the constant beep of a heart monitor. Fluorescent lights above them all were humming. A floor buffer was running down the hall.

He was in a hospital.

Ray opened his eyes slowly. He knew even dim lights would hurt them given how lousy he was currently feeling. Turned out, he was right. Tears immediately flooded his eyes as the light stung at them. It took several blinks to acclimate his eyes to the environment.

Who said he never learned anything from those training videos?

Acclimate, meant something like get used to. Fancy word. Stell had used something like it when he mentioned his first apartment. Not a problem, she was used to getting used to him.

Speaking of Stell, where was she? He was in the hospital, she should be there by his side.

Ray glanced about the room, trying to find some shred of evidence that she was there. There was none. In fact, the more he saw, the more he wished it would go away.

The walls were a dull yellow, what parts weren't covered in metal fixtures. Where the windows should have reflected outside, were more rooms with yellow walls. He could see other people through the glass wall, they were in a commissary type room. Only a vertical blind which could be opened and closed gave him privacy.

This was not what he had been expecting.

Instead of Stella sitting in the chair next to his bed, there was a man he had never seen before. A very strange looking man. At least, what he assumed was a strange looking man outside of a cartoon. He had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. "Did Yogi make off with a picnic basket?"

"Hmm?" Looking up from his book, the stranger blinked at Ray. As he shifted, the hat in his lap shifted. "What was that?"

"Nothing." Ray shook his head, not liking the fact that he was feeling like he had just swam the entire Chicago river. "Where am I?"

"Seattle, I believe." He closed the book, seeing that Ray was actually alert and responding. After he set it aside, he pulled the hat from his lap and put it on top of the book. "We first came here three days ago in a ball of light. Apparently the ball exploded, disgorging us on a place called Highland Beach. Your government gathered us together and brought us to this building for quarantine. Since then, they have been trying to ascertain what happened, mainly why we were abducted, then returned." He finished with a tight smile.

Ray could only stare at him. "Uh huh. Now, where's the little rabbit with the funny hat?"

The stranger tilted his head like he hadn't heard Ray. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know, like that chick, Alice in Wonderbread. She chased after that rabbit in to the big fricken hole in the ground. It's from a book written by that dude with the girl's name for a last name." Seeing that he was only confusing the guy more, Ray rolled his eyes. "Never mind. What day is this? Stell's gotta be freakin out by now."

He paused. Watching Ray, he seemed to consider his response for a minute before speaking. "It is the thirty-first of May, in the year two thousand, four." As he finished, his already perfect posture was even more rigid.

Staring at him, Ray raised his eyebrows. "Okay, wise guy, pull the other one." While the man sighed, Ray glanced about his bed for a remote or buzzer of some kind to call the nurse. Obviously the crazies weren't locked up in this hospital.

Then something occurred to him. Looking at the window again, Ray noticed the clothes everyone was wearing. Some people had on their costumes from the fog he could remember. But most?

Most of the people were wearing drab jump-suits.

Ray glanced back to the strange man. He was wearing a uniform, but there was nothing sharp, no belt, boots, or buckles of any kind. That settled it. Reaching up, he rubbed his fingers over his forehead. "What happened to me? Did I run amok in the market? Some perp drug me? Did I lose Stell and my mind?"

Nah, the last one would never happen. It had to have been the drugging thing.

He went back to searching for the call button. There wasn't one, which was strange, but not surprising. In a mental hospital, one could drive the nurses batty with those things. He had an idea on how to get their attention, even without the call button.

Reaching up, Ray clenched his jaw and braced himself. With a quick tug, he jerked the diodes from his chest. The smattering of hair there came away with a painful hiss. Ray seized forward in his bed, a muted cry on his lips. Biting his lips, he gave an unmanly whimper.

He had to force himself to release the cords. Distantly, he became aware of the heart monitor crying out. The stranger was at his side, looking at him in alarm, but that didn't matter.

Just like he had hoped, the nurses showed up. All five of them in environmental suits. They were accompanied by a black woman with a stethoscope. He had a moment to be impressed that she was the Doctor. May be equality wasn't just something Stella had been preaching about.

Then they were on him.

The stranger was gone, driven out by the nurses. The first thing they did was to check him over for damage. When they found his torn off heart monitor, out came the needles.

Ray didn't like needles. He never liked needles. So it was understandable when he tried to climb over them and out of the bed. That only made the woman wielding the needle happier to stab him with it. After that, the white rabbit and Alice came waltzing back in to his room and the rest of the world went on a nature hike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So he was in a sanitarium.

That was the first thought that came to mind when Ray found he could think again. It sounded like the title of one of them self help books Stell was always trying to get him to read. He didn't like the plot of this one at all. Reaching up, he scrubbed his eyes clear of build up.

The first thing he saw was that the stranger was back, hat and all. For some reason, this seemed to comfort him a little. Ray found himself smiling at the man. "What are you in for? Think you're Ranger Nelson?"

"In for? I'm afraid I do not know your references." He offered Ray a polite smile.

"I get it, you're a freak." Satisfied he had solved that enigma, Ray decided he had had enough laying down for a while. His arms were a little weak, but he was still strong enough to use the handles on the bed to haul himself up in to a sitting position. Once there, he leaned forward until he was able to hold it.

This was exhausting work in and of itself. So, he waited for his body to recover by staring at the stranger. "Name's Stanley Raymond Kowalski, friends call me Ray. What unfortunate thing did your rents stick you with?"

Coloring a little, the stranger couldn't quite meet Ray's eyes. "I, uh, that is, my name is Benton Fraser."

Ray winced. "Ouch. Bet you got your ass kicked a time or two, huh?"

"Actually, yes, but not for my name." Sitting back in his chair, the man fingered the rim of his hat. After several minutes, it seemed he wasn't going to say anything else.

That wasn't good enough for Ray. He turned to look out the wall. Now that he knew it was there, he felt a little self-conscious for it. There were still a countless number of people out there. "You a leper?"

Fraser's head shot up at that. Frowning, he shook his head once. "No. Why do you ask?"

Pointing to the crowd, Ray tried not to appear too interested. Some freaks, you asked the time, and they gave you their every hang up. "Why aren't you with them?"

"Ah." And his understanding was very much physical in conjunction with his mental. Nodding, Fraser shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea." He looked away again. "Actually, that is untrue. I have my suspicions, but it is simply more tolerable that I do not confirm them."

"Freak." With that pronouncement, Ray went back to people watching. His bed was comfortable and sitting there like a sat up cabbage patch doll wasn't completely unpleasant. "What's the real deal with this whole thing? We in an asylum, a prison, some weird government facility for experimentation? What?"

Staring at his feet, Fraser sighed. "The latter, I'm afraid. The longer we are here, the more hollow their promises of answers ring." By the time he finished, his fingers were white around the hat, but its rim remained intact. "I have learned very little of what is actually going on, but have picked up a number, a name they have given us. Forty-four hundred."

"Nice, even." Ray snorted. It meant less to him that it seemed to should have. "You got anybody waiting for you on the outside?"

"My grandparents and my father." His words were softly spoken.

Ray didn't want to do it. This was going to bite him in the ass. Yet, he knew that he wouldn't not do it. Stell always said he was a big softy on the inside. Leaning forward, he pat the bed twice. "Get over here, talking so loud is hurting my throat."

Fraser didn't question this. He simply nodded. Rising from his chair, he crossed the short distance to sit at the foot of the bed. "Since they have not come to visit, I am left to believe they are dead."

That surprised Ray. A part of him knew it had to be the case, given the man's reaction. Still, he hadn't been thinking along those lines. He bumped Fraser's shoulder with his fist. "Cheer up, you're giving us loons a bad name."

"We are not insane, merely different." His posture wouldn't allow it, but Fraser seemed to sink in on himself. Sighing again, he set the hat down in his lap. "As for your advice, depression cannot be cured by ordering it away."

"Believe it or not, but that's somethin I've heard before." Shifting, Ray pushed himself to the edge of the bed so that his legs could dangle off the side. On instinct, his actions had brought him to within touching distance of Fraser. He bumped shoulders with the other man.

"Stell tells me the only way to deal with it is to 'locate the source and confront it'." Ray made quotes in the air to emphasize his words. "So what you have to do, is find some asshole. Then give him a good swift kick to the head. You'll feel better, an asshole's put in his place, problem solved."

"If only life were that easy." Fraser's ear tips grew red as he realized what he had said. "Oh dear." He released a nervous chuckle, which he quickly covered up with a cough. "I am used to loneliness, it is the ostracism I have never experienced."

Draping an arm over the other man's shoulders, Ray tugged him close. "Welcome to America."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ray was awake the next time the nurses came to check his vitals. They were doing things he hadn't expected. He had been in the hospital once when he was a kid. Things had changed a lot since then. Obviously, technology had too.

As one woman took a tube of his blood, another put a blood pressure cuff on his arm. It irritated that they treated him as if he were an invalid, but couldn't bring his level of irritation to belligerence. That was probably a remainder of the drugs they had given him earlier.

So, instead, he went limp.

He remembered hearing his old Sargent talk about how big a pain it was. Much to his amusement, this seemed to translate to manipulating a patient as well. Ray knew it had to be hot in those suits, but that was their problem.

Smiling, he continued to stare up at the ceiling. Soon enough, they were done and were leaving him in peace. Ray thought the examination was over, so he decided to sit up. Much to his annoyance, there was still one person left in the room.

Bracing himself on one arm, he glared at the man in the environmental suit. "What do you want?"

"Relax, Mr. Kowalski, I merely have a few routine questions for you." Switching the clipboard from one hand, the man walked over to the chair next to Ray's bed. Pulling it up so that he could look to Ray directly, he sat down in it. "Now, before we begin, I ask that if you have any questions yourself, please wait until the end."

"Yeah, okay." With a groan, Ray fell back against the pillows. So much for being able to relax. "Ask away, doc."

"Thank you." Checking the first questions, the man picked up his pen. "For the record, please state your full name."

"Billy Jean King." When that only received silence, Ray glanced over at the man with a smile. "Oh, you mean the name I was born with? Sorry." Rolling his eyes, he faced the ceiling again. "Stanley Raymond Kowalski, son of Damian and Barbara Kowalski. Before you ask, yeah, dad's a Brando fan."

"I see." Filling out the form quickly, the man's sigh came through the suit's speaker loud and clearly. "Now, what do you believe the exact date to be?"

That was an easy one. "March seventh."

"What year?"

Ray found the man watching him, his pen poised over the paper. Apparently the inquisitor was serious. "Nineteen, eighty-seven. Why, what year is it?"

"Two thousand, four." Checking off a couple boxes, the man missed Ray's look of disbelief. "What exactly is your occupation?"

"I'm a cop." He frowned at the man's snort of disbelief. "I am, no matter what those clowns at the fifteenth say! I was only there at the academy for recertification, nothin else." Ray's blood started to pumping, but his body still felt disinclined to do something about it. "Ask your next damn question 'fore I get angry."

"All right. What was the last thing you remember before you awoke standing on the beach?" There came a long pause, prompting the man to look up from his clipboard. "Mr. Kowalski?"

"I'm trying to think." Closing his eyes, he took a calming breath. He did this four times before he attempted a second time. This time remembering became much easier. "Cold. So much cold. Bright lights. Pain." He suddenly winced, jerking away from his pillow.

"Mr. Kowalski!" Rising from his chair, the man set the clipboard on the bedside. He leaned over Ray, touching his shoulder in alarm. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, perfect, every thing's great." Hand to his forehead, Ray squeezed his eyes tightly shut. When most of the pain had passed, he released a heavy sigh. Then just to be contrary, he shook the man's hand off his shoulder. "Is that all your questions?"

As he continued to observe Ray, the man picked up his clipboard. "There are others, but they can wait."

"Greatness." Ray eased himself back on to his pillow. "What about my wife? When can I see my Stella?"

Looking down at his clipboard, the man flipped through a few papers. When that revealed nothing, he raised his gaze back to Ray. "I am sorry, but we do not have someone named Stella listed in your records."

"Then go back and check again. Stell and I got married last year." Showed what kinda place this was. Idiot bastards probably snatched him off the fucking street. "Get out, and take your stupid questions with you."

"Very well, Mr. Kowalski. I will do as you ask. There is some things you need to know before I do." Walking to the door, the man let the clipboard drop to his side. "You are allowed to roam this facility freely through any door not locked. Catching a door before it closes is not considered not locked. You will treat each person here with courtesy. For safety reasons, we require that when you leave this room, you do so only with a buddy. Your buddy is Mr. Fraser."

"Fantastic." Ray waved at him angrily, trying to send him away faster.

"We are serious, Mr. Kowalski. Do not leave this room unescorted. Do not be rude. And most importantly, do not try to escape. You won't get very far and it only pisses us off." His head raised as his spine straightened. This caused the suit to rumple. "You are here for a reason, try not to forget that."

Ray's only response was to give him the one finger salute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During some program called 'The Simpsons', Ray found himself playing with the identification bracelet on his wrist. It wasn't his chain, but the placement was familiar enough to be comforting. Ray and Fraser were sitting on a couch in one of the many television rooms. They were the only ones there, but people were watching them through the glass walls.

He knew they were the strangest pair in the quarantined zone. What, with Fraser's devotion to his boy scout uniform and Ray's hair. Sure, he was certain it was something else, but much like his bud, he preferred to believe it was his own choosing. Hair this cool didn't come along every day, it had to be admired from afar.

Leaning in to Fraser's space, Ray kept his eyes on the screen. "You know, I don't understand why Marge don't just divorce Homer. He's a dreg, total waste of space."

Fraser turned to look at Ray. He raised an eyebrow. "It is a cartoon, Ray."

"Yeah, but come on. You can't tell me that you haven't thought it too." Bringing the wrist band to his mouth, Ray tugged the button his wrist band between his teeth. He wasn't certain what exactly it was so fascinating, but he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the screen when the show was on. "If I were her, I'd totally be in to the Flanders guy. Sure, he's a Jesus Freak, and, you know, a total goody two shoes. But he's probably the best guy in the whole town. Yeah, I can see her getting with Flanders."

"It is a cartoon, Ray." Fraser voice held a hint of disbelieve. Shaking his head, he went back to watching the television.

"I know that, Frase, it's just." Ray shrugged his shoulders. "Homer. I mean, the guy's just in such a class of his own. Not in a good way, either. Like that bug, well, that worm that lays eggs in raw meat and then gets eaten and grows in your stomach." As the show went to blacked out commercials, Ray's head swiveled around to face Fraser.

The action was so sudden, Fraser nearly jumped out his skin. As it was, his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "I believe you are referring to a tapeworm, Ray."

"Yeah, that thing." Snapping his fingers, Ray pointed to Fraser. "That's it. Totally." His voice trailed off as the show returned from commercial. It drew his attention almost like a magnet, jerking him back to the screen.

"Hmm." With a sigh, Fraser settled back in his cushions to get comfortable. He couldn't get all that interested in the shows, but Ray's reaction was extremely fascinating. "There was a memo in the cafeteria this morning."

"Yeah?" Leaning forward, Ray picked up his can of coke. He sipped from it twice before setting it back down. During all this, his eyes didn't once leave the screen.

"The directors of this facility are forming therapy groups to help us through this ordeal." He paused to allow Ray a reaction time. When there was none, Fraser frowned with disappointment. "I was wondering if you wish to attend one with me?"

"I dunno." Ray shrugged. The show was funny, he supposed, but he couldn't bring himself to laugh at it. There were plenty of times he smiled, though. "You think it might help you?"

"I am not certain, Ray. It could be beneficial for the sheer human interaction." He wasn't going to mention he thought Ray was the one who needed it. "I do not believe it would hurt us to at least give it a try."

"Okay, why not." Ray sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. Hunkering down in the pillows, he let his head settled on the back of the couch. "Now, that was just completely fake. My Stell would never put up with that. I'd be lucky to keep my head and ass separate after that."

Closing his eyes, Fraser hung his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their names were Richard, Shawn, Lily, Beth, and Mary Anne. No last names, but numbers were acceptable.

Ray couldn't care less. He was certain they all knew his number, whatever that was for. To him, they were Bashful, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, and PMS Annie, respectively. Together, they were the seven dorks.

While Beth read another of her boring poems about the cafeteria food, Ray glanced over to Fraser for the hundredth time.

His expression was a scowl, didn't last long, but his pal got the message loud and clear. He would never forgive him for this. Sitting through these people whining about how bad they had it was unbearable. Ray wasn't certain how Fraser put up with it.

They all had family out there. Every last single one of them.

Fraser had no one. No one but him, that was. And Ray intended to make sure Fraser knew he was interested in being his buddy.

Across the circle, Fraser deliberately kept his eyes on Beth. That didn't mean he didn't see the dirty looks Ray was sending his way from the corner of his eye. He just chose to ignore them. As the girl finished her reading, he joined politely in clapping with the other people

All except Ray.

Arms crossed over his chest, Ray glared at the floor. When the girl yawned, stretching her arms over her head, he raised his glare from the floor to her.

As she stretched, her shirt rode up. This caused Fraser to turn away, flushing brilliant. She lowered her arms, her yawn ending in a smile.

"Well, that was interesting." Sitting in her moderator's chair, the therapist adjusted her facial mask. "Anyone care to share with the rest of the group?"

A slow smile slid across Ray's face as he raised his hand.

Fraser's eyes widened, his skin visibly paling. He pleaded with Ray with his eyes.

Turning to Ray, the therapist smiled with her eyes. "Our newest member wishes to share something? Go ahead, Ray."

Clearing his throat, Ray opened his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on his bed, Ray focused his attention directly at the glass wall. If he squinted just right, he could make out what was going on in the TV room across the way. He didn't see why they had to lock him his room. It wasn't like he had been a screaming loon, throwing his shit.

And, really, it was a therapy group. He thought sharing was part of the process. They said they were trying to promote an air of honesty and open communications. Like every other psycho cult guru bullshit, they had lied.

Sighing, he rest his head upon a fist. His elbow was resting upon his knee, his legs drawn up to him.

Stella would have thought it funny. She had laughed when he had told her what he did to that guy who tried to get all those old people to believe all their problems would be solved by thinking happy thoughts. That and by giving him all their money. Sure, Peter Pan hadn't exactly flown, but for about fifteen feet, he sure had been trying.

He was reaching out to tug at a loose string on his blanket when the lock on his door snicked open. Ray twisted his head, but didn't raise it off his fist, to see who it was.

The door opened only far enough to let in a man. Hat in hands, Fraser glanced about the room before stepping in. The moment his eyes fell upon Ray, his expression warred between two emotions. Joy at seeing his friend again eventually trumped the disappointment. "It is good to see you, Ray."

"Frase." He was so relieved to have company again, Ray was willing to overlook the fact that his so called buddy had been the one to tackle him. Sure, they were going to lock him away anyways, but did he have to help them?

Apparently so.

Much to Ray's own disappointment, the door shut quickly behind Fraser. Once more in a foul mood, he eyed the taller man. "What brings you here if not to break me out?"

"I was..." Fraser hesitated, then he looked away. Looking decidedly uncomfortable, he walked around the bed to take his usual place in the chair. As he sat down, he set his hat in his lap. Finally, he built up the courage to look at Ray. "I have missed your company, Ray."

Staring at him, Ray tried to see if the guy was lying. So far, he had been pretty shifty in his actions. One minute he was acting like Ray was his best friend, the next, he was doing some weird shit or tackling him for insulting a group of people. "Is that true?"

"Yes, Ray, it is." Fraser glanced away. With a sigh, he let his eyes wonder about the room until they settled on the glass wall. There were people watching them through it from across the commissary. This made Fraser sigh again.

"They're not gonna let me outta here, are they?" At Fraser's head shake, Ray hit his pillow. It wasn't his fault. "Bunch of assholes."

"I agree." A comfortable silence settled between them. From his place next to the bed, Fraser seemed content to just remain there forever.

It became too much for Ray to watch. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop. So this was it. He couldn't understand why. Why was it happening? What did he do to deserve it? Why was no one doing anything about it?

None of it made any sense.

Forcing the thoughts from his head, Ray went back to staring out the wall. After several minutes, he took a shuddering breath. "I missed ya too, Frase."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The smell of something burning awoke Ray. Opening his eyes, he tried to make out everything in his room. Much to his surprise, the main lights were out. The only illumination came from the emergency beacons in the commissary.

Sitting up, he glanced to his door. The moment his head reached a certain level, the smell became pungent, almost overwhelming. He gasped as tears filled his eyes. Grabbing the pillow, he ducked his head down and slid off the bed.

After shucking the pillow, he wrapped the pillow case around the lower half of his face. That done, he kept low to the floor and crawled under his bed to the window. He glanced about, pressing his face to the glass to see as far as he could.

There were people in the distance, but they were running for the exits. He had noticed the signed doors before, but they were always guarded by men in environmental suits with guns. Now, the doors were swung wide open and people were passing through them in a panic.

Ray's heart started to pound. A chill started to sweep through him and he shivered. Closing his eyes, he forced his body under control. Now was not the time to give in to the urges.

He had to get out of there.

When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that the glass wall was fogged up. Growling, he pushed away from it and crawled for the door. If they were evacuating, then the door should be unlocked.

Should be.

By the time he reached it, a lead weight had settled in his stomach. No alarm had sounded in his room. If they were wanting to get rid of him, claiming he got stuck in his room during the fire was a good way to do it. There was no way in hell he was letting that happen.

Closing his eyes, Ray prayed to whatever might be out there and grasped the handle. Turning it, he felt light as a feather, until it stuck. Ray jerked it back and forth a couple times to make sure, then released it. The door was still locked. He was trapped.

It was a cell, the door was reinforced with steel bars. If they wanted to leave him in there, he wasn't getting out that way.

Ray jerked around to face the window. The glass wall was his only way out! He considered doing like the crazy people in the movies did, but the chair would never be enough to shatter the glass. And even if it did, he would most likely cut himself when it exploded.

No, there was something much bigger and much better. Crawling over to his bed, he smacked the wheel release on each of the legs. He climbed up on the bed and shucked away all the material. The tags, equipment, a metal lamp, all of it was tossed to the way side.

As he did this, he started to grow light headed. The smell of smoke and ozone was growing thicker in his room. He had to hurry!

The bed now clear, he slid down to the foot and grasped the handles. The bed came away quickly from the wall. With a strength born of desperation, he forcefully maneuvered the bed so that the head was even with the glass. Pulling it back, he backed up to the opposite wall. Then he pushed off, shoving the bed against the glass wall.

It impacted with a dull thud. The entire wall vibrated, bowing, but did not break. He hadn't expected it to.

Pulling back, Ray wiped at his clammy skin. He was growing colder with each passing moment. That was never a good sign, any number of things could be setting in. With a growl, he drove the bed back at the wall.

This time, the wall gave a hollow echo as it shook. The wall began to fog up as Ray pulled back for a third go. Shoving with all his strength, he hit the far wall hard enough to bounce off the foot of the bed. With a stressed grunt, a line appeared in the glass.

Elation filled Ray, but he wasn't done yet. Drawing back for another impact, he wiped at his nose through the impromptu mask. He had to blow the snot away before he could breathe again.

That done, he slammed the bed against the glass again. This time, the crack shot off in several directions, growing until it covered most of the wall. Ray's arms were heavy, his legs stiff as he pulled the beg back for another go.

With a growl, he placed his body in to position. Sweat poured down his bare skin. His muscles were twinging, causing his limbs to jump. Half lidded eyes checked the alignment of his battering ram. Satisfied it was perfect, he pushed off.

The run felt like a hundred miles this time as the world slowed down. His blood pumping in his ears, Ray slammed the bed against the frosted glass. Instead of stopping, the bed continued on through, shattering the wall in large chunks to the sound of bricks impacting against each other.

The bed rolled on through, dragging Ray with it. His hands were still holding the rail tight, unable to let go. He felt his legs go over the frozen glass, but couldn't bring himself to care.

He was free.

As the bed quickly rolled to a stop, he was finally able to pry his hands free of the rail. That done, he dropped to the floor of the commissary. He lay there for several heartbeats, his own breathing the only thing he could hear.

When he could hear again, Ray noticed there was indeed an alarm going off. Rolling on to his back, he eased his aching body in to a sitting position. He looked to where he had just come and marveled at the room of solid ice. Then he looked up and down the wall, where several cells like his own lined the length of the commissary.

All of the cells were empty.

All but one.

In the one at the far end of the commissary, brilliant fires raged. The glass had long since melted away and the bricks were turning to dust. Intense heat warped the steel girders that supported the roof. Dodging about the fires, people in silver suits tried to contain something in the cell.

A wall of fire sprang up, separating them from their target. This caused them to jump back, beating at the rods in their hands to put out the flaming tips.

Ray recognized the tools they carried as cattle prods. He had seen them at the academy. Seeing that these guys were trying to use them on a living person sent a thrill of cold rage through Ray. Using the bed, he shakily climbed to his feet.

A cold chill filled the air around him, but Ray ignored it. Limping towards the cell, his breath became visible. To the limits of his vision, ice crystals began to form on everything within reach. A wave of ice shot up the support girders coating the ceiling and floor in every direction.

His bare feet slapped against the ice, but he never felt it. He closed within twenty feet of the figures when suddenly, they cried out. Looking down, Ray noticed the ice had reached their feet. Their cries being silenced made him look back up. The figures were now covered in a blue frost.

As he watched, the ice continued to spread, overtaking the cell and the fires within. With a sizzling hiss, the last of the flames died out. The lack of fire light darkened the cell.

Ray stood shivering, his toes curling in the frost covered commissary floor. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for until a figure appeared in the dim security light.

Stepping out of the cell, his hat in place, Fraser glanced about in shock. The moment his eyes landed upon Ray, his expression slipped in to neutral.

The lack of response made Ray look down at himself. He was scratched up and half naked. His bare feet were dirty. Flexing his toes, he looked back to Fraser. "Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?" His voice was soft, barely audible over the alarms.

Ray shivered. "Did we do this?"

"I believe so." This time, Fraser's voice held more conviction. Still, it was just above a whisper.

Wrapping his arms about his bare torso, Ray shivered again. "I want to go home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2004 - Chicago

Glasses firmly in place, he reached up and rang the bell. He felt ridiculous with his hair greased up and combed over like a dork. The damned suit only completed the ensemble. While he waited for the door to be answered, Ray adjusted his tie. A slap to his hand cut the action short. He was tempted to glare, but settled on sighing.

Clearing his throat, Fraser put his hand back behind his back. In his bright red serge, he stood out like a sore thumb in the snow.

The door handle started to turn, giving Ray just enough time to jab Fraser in the ribs before it opened. By the time the door was pulled back, he was looking normal and pleasant for the kid inside. Adjusting his glasses, Ray took in the kid's appearance.

The hopeful expression fell from his face. Clearing his throat, he licked his lips. "I'm sorry, we must have the wrong address. Sorry to waste your time."

With a snort, the kid rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dork." He then slammed the door shut.

Swallowing, Ray took a shuddering breath. He spun slowly, then walked down the steps to the front gate. Ray could hear Fraser following him closely behind, but didn't want to talk so he tried to be faster. Unfortunately, there was the small matter of the gate. When he stopped to open it, Fraser had time to catch up to him.

Coming up behind Ray, Fraser reached up to place a hand upon his shoulder. He didn't comment when it was rebuffed with a violent shrug.

Ray walked out on to the sidewalk, his glasses fogging. Biting his lip, he clenched his gloved hands in to fists. "Seventeen years is a long time. No one can expect things to remain the same."

A step behind, Fraser merely nodded. He would be there when Ray needed him.

"She's gotta kid, Frase." Pausing, Ray glanced over his shoulder back at the town house. "The Stell I knew never wanted kids. She wants to become a lawyer, a big shot in the senate by the time she's forty."

Reaching out, Fraser took Ray's hand in his own. He closed his eyes with relief when it was squeezed in return.

"She's gotta kid. Stell's a mom." Biting his lip, Ray sucked in a shuddering breath. He was not going to lose it on some street corner like a lunatic. "My Stell's gone, Fraser. Everything I had is gone."

"You still have me, Ray." A heavy weight settled on Fraser's chest, making it hard to breathe when Ray squeezed his hand again. "We have each other now."

"Yeah." Ray swallowed. Then he nodded. "Yeah." Reaching up, he wiped at the corners of his eyes. "Let's go." Tugging on Fraser's hand, he started down the street.

And when the door to the town house opened again, he didn't look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2005 - Inuvik

The front door of the cabin kicked open, causing the bells on the back to jingle. Covered from head to toe in heavy material, the figure hauled the large basket in with one hand. His other was busy holding the bulge of material over his chest close.

With a groan, he set the heavy basket off to the side. Then, he stretched out one leg. After hooking it around the back of the door, he slammed it shut behind him. If the bells hadn't alerted the others to his presence, the slamming door would have.

Stopping off in the sludge room, he wiped his boots quickly on the rugs until they were clear. As he did this, the bundle strapped to his chest started to move. He acted quickly to sooth it, trying to prevent him from crying out.

Coming in to the main room of the station, Benton pulled on his suspenders and tugged up his zipper. The moment he caught sight of the masked figure, his face split in a wide grin. "Ray, you came."

"I told you, and I always keep my word." Walking quickly over the thick floorboards, he reached behind him with one hand. Four straps came quickly sliding over his shoulder and the bundle came free. Shifting it, he grabbed it with both hands. "Your turn!"

Fraser accepted the squirming bundle, turning the baby to face him. Holding him to his chest, he bounced him. "How are the dogs?"

"I don't know, and I don't care! Those furfaced mutts and the kid are in a competition to see who can scream the loudest." With a quick move, he jerked the mask an hood off his head. Ray's hair stuck up in all wild directions, his eyes narrowed in anger. "I told ya not to get them, but you'd not hear of it."

"Ray, sled dogs are an important part of life here." Fraser sighed. This was far from the first time he had told his lover this. Yet, it never seemed to register with him. "They are very social animals. If you would pay them some attention, aside from feeding them, they would not get so lonely."

"Stuff it, Mountie. If you want them beasts to have a social life, get'em a car." Reaching over his shoulder, Ray unhooked another bag from his back. It hit the floor with a muffled thump. "If I don't get to work within the next ten minutes, Shelly is going to have my head." Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to the bundle's top, then higher up to Fraser's cheek. "See you tonight."

Scrubbing a hand over the bundle's top, Ray gave it a quick shuffle. "Play nice, you two." Taking a deep breath, he reached up to grab his hood and mask. Quickly, he tugged them back in to place. A final look over of the Mountie and Bundle, then he turned for the door. "Bye, Frase."

"Good bye, Ray." Sighing, Fraser watched the door slam shut behind his lover. The excitement over, he looked down at the bundle's face.

Staring back at him, wide blue eyes watched his every move. Upon noticing he was the center of attention, he raised his eyebrows twice, then grinned.

Chuckling, Fraser reached in to the bundle to his son. He scratched him under the chin, tickling his chubby flesh. "What do we do until tonight?"

The baby blinked twice, before his eyes half closed. Face scrunching up, he made a grunting sound.

The smile quickly fell from Fraser's face. The moment the smell hit him, he closed his eyes and shuddered. May be Ray was right about the caribou stew after all.

 

THE END.....................................


End file.
